This article is based on this Dutch article of Martinus Benders On X, that social training ground for moral impulse control, it’s nearly impossible to go a day without being confronted by the raw cacophony of opinions built on nothing but resentment. Somewhere between ads for supplements and cryptocurrency, algorithmically amplified ignorance crashes against your…
Month: April 2025
Joyful news: What do I buy for your dark wild powers, William
Why is translating my poetry into English so much harder than translating it into German, Italian, or Turkish? The easy answer might be: those other languages are naturally more lyrical – the melody of their linguistic fabric gives off something poetic more effortlessly. But that answer is only half the truth. The real problem runs…
Once / I No Longer Write Love Poems
Once Edip Cansever Translated by Martinus Benders That “once” seems to have lodged itself in you like a fogged-up window – nothing is visible, yet somehow it watches you from the outside. Uphill, downhill, across plains, through bends, every glimmer of light reflects something of it to you, a knife left behind in battle. Waiting,…
Not knowing who the mole is
To what extent is a counter-movement in a Secret Serviceocracy a matter of Controlled Opposition? That’s a truly essential question. I think one can realistically say that the truth always lies somewhere in the middle — part of the movement is authentic, but there are moles steering things and ready to blow it all up…
The Poltergeists of Her Eyelashes
Hi Hey, work.Hey, lovely chair stuffed with work.Hey, lampshade.Hey, memo notes.Hey, typing oddity.Hey. Hey, boss.Hey, handsome boss stuffed with work.Hey, copy of the boss.Hey, copy of the copy.Hey. Hey, internet.Hey, sweet internet full of money.Hey, search engine.Hey, Martijn.Hey.Hey. Hey, break.Hey, sweet break full of heroes.Hey, break-time pals.Hey, P for Parking.Hey, porn. Just kidding.Hey, stubby. Hey,…
A Great Anthology
This article is based on this Dutch article of Martinus Benders I’ve conceived the idea of creating a major anthology in which I present the best Turkish poems I could find, translated into Dutch. For now, I’ve done enough polemicizing here — I actually meant to leave it at Piranha, that book already expresses quite…
For you, I learned what title-fixation means.
Distance What they’re able to make of it, nowadays— World cities built at arm’s length, relationships maintained by remote. Suffocating are worlds of ideology with no escape hatch. Asphyxiating: love’s binoculars that crush miles to dust. I crave new life. Life that wages war on being right. Distance, as antidote to detoxed minds. Give me…